


Strange Things Happening Everyday

by Dariary_Absentee



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Manipulation, Family Drama, Happy Ending?, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Italian! Harrington Family, M/M, Neglect, Original Female Character - Freeform, Steve Harrington-Centric, billy is a good boyfriend, mentions of abuse, mentions of divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dariary_Absentee/pseuds/Dariary_Absentee
Summary: “Should I bother to ask who you are?” Maria Harrington set down her suitcase but made sure to keep hold of her purse. The boy looks like the thieving type and she’s much too smart to be easy pickings for the likes of him.“Steve’s friend,” Billy swallowed. “I’m Steve’s friend.”Steve doesn’t mention his mother often, in fact, it was only a few times when he was particularly trashed and upset. She’s colder than a witch’s tit to her son and has never cared about him.That's all he knows.





	Strange Things Happening Everyday

**Author's Note:**

> Gah! I could gush forever about this imaginary mom I've made up for Steve and their ridiculously complicated relationship! The title comes from a song of the same name by Fern Jones. Translations for the text in Italian are at the end!

Maria Harrington is nursing a headache, one that has primarily too much to do with alcohol and Valium and the fact that her husband is a sleazy, money grubbing, good for nothing conman.

Her father did always say she had a thing for the wrong type of men, even she’ll admit she was young and defiant and embarrassingly stupid then. All she got from it was a child more trouble than he’s worth and now a wild looking teenage boy sitting ramrod straight on her sofa with wide blue eyes.

And a headache that's turning into a migraine.

Her father had always been right, she should’ve joined the Convent, at least there the only stupid man she had to deal with was God himself. If the boy’s butchered hair and mottled, bruised skin were supposed to shock her, they don’t. She feels nothing, but weary exasperation that’s settled deep into her bones just looking at this strange new person. Her son’s always getting into things that turn her headache into a migraine, bringing ratty looking strangers and loud annoying children included.

“Should I bother to ask who you are?” She set down her suitcase but made sure to keep hold of her purse. The boy looks like the thieving type and she’s much too smart to be easy pickings for the likes of him.

“Steve’s friend,” he swallowed. “I’m Steve’s friend.”

Steve doesn’t mention his mother often, in fact, it was only a few times when he was particularly shitfaced and upset. Maria Harrington is colder than a witch’s tit to her son and has never given a rat’s ass about him.

That's all he knows.

“Charming,” she hardly smiled.  

The dainty pearls hanging from her neck are worth more than ten of his lives and she makes sure to make it known just by looking at him. “Do you have a name then or do you just go by ‘Steve’s friend’ around town?”

Billy glared at the woman. At least he knows where Steve gets that bitchy attitude from, it’s much cuter on him. “Billy,” he pushed out. He itched for a cigarette, it’s practically against all his instincts to look so vulnerable with a stranger around. The look Steve’s mother is giving him, however, dares him to so much as breathe the wrong way let alone get up and smoke while speaking to her.

If Neil liked women with any brains, he’d probably like her.

Billy watched her disappear into the kitchen for a moment, in record time she came back with a glass of wine. Who would’ve thought Steve’s mom would be wine-o, it’s barely nine in the morning. “Are you homeless, Billy?” She asked. He’s not sure how she deduced that one so quickly, the trash-bag containing his things was up in Steve’s room. He kept only one pair of shoes downstairs and it doesn’t seem too weird to have his car here if he’s staying the night. She made a little noise from the back of her throat as she took another sip. "Oh, you _are_ homeless. That would explain not having a last name.” She looked at him with slightly fresher eyes, the bruises smattered across his face and the obvious attempt at a haircut someone must’ve done to him. “Recently homeless,” she added.  

“I have a last name,” Billy glowered at her.

She quirked an eyebrow, “come with me to the kitchen, there’s too much sunlight.” She gave the wide open curtains a distasteful glance. Her large brown eyes like Steve’s but darker and a bit colder, emphasized by long dark lashes and thick eyeliner fell on him. “I won’t be asking you again.”  

Her and Neil would _really_ get along.

Billy pulled himself from the couch, scowling all the while at being ordered around again. He followed her to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. “Your last name, Billy?”

“Hargrove.”

A look of recognition didn’t cross her face, a sign of how little she’s in town. Susan’s made it her job to ingrain herself in the life of almost every other woman in town. Book club, bible study, PTA meetings, all that dumb shit they do to keep themselves from clawing out their husband’s throats and their own hair. She didn’t take a seat, she preferred to stand at the sink with her arms crossed as well as they could be with a wine glass involved. Her eyes stalked him, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. He’s not supposed to be prey.

“Well,” she said finally after a long electrifying stretch of silence, “where is my son?”

“He went out to get us breakfast,” Billy said. “Didn’t feel like cooking.”

She didn’t even nod. Maria raised the glass to her lips without another word. His heart started to race thinking she may have somehow found out that he and Steve are more than friends just by looking at him. Just by using the word 'us’.

“He’s always eating junk,” she sighed, looking pained. “I suppose it would be my job to stay down here and wait for him?” She downed the rest of the glass, fixed herself another and sat down across from Billy.

Neither of them spoke, at least ‘Billy’ has enough common sense to know she prefers silence. Her son _insists_ on talking, he was a chatterbox from the beginning.

Everyone assured her as soon as she saw his precious face, felt his little heartbeat and heard his loud cries of life she would automatically fall in love with him. She hadn’t, she only held him to save face in front of the nurses and doctors. Steven was a _very_ ugly baby, he got cute for a little while, but by time he teen years rolled in he had come full circle. His eyes are bulbous and an odd shade of brown, his head is square, and he’s got all those moles from the worst side of her family.

Maria resolved to never love her son by time October came around…he was born September 23rd, it barely took two weeks for her to know.

“You’re the only one staying here, yes?” She asked. “Or has he turned the house into a homeless shelter?”

Billy snarled at the words. ‘I’m not a damn charity case’ formed, but hardly got anywhere. Right now, he practically is. “It’s just me,” he spat.

No visible response. “I suppose there’s room for small miracles,” she said. “The boy with curly hair screams too much. I prefer feral over loud.”

“Mom!” Steve yelled from the foyer.

Billy watched the woman cringe as if to prove the point she just made. A hand went to her temple massaging it tenderly. “You know how I feel about yelling, Steven,” she called from the kitchen.

“Mom,” Steve came in, Billy had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He had two cups of coffee in his hands and a bag of containers filled with their breakfast, he dropped them both on the counter talking almost a light speed. “I didn’t know you were going to be home? What are you--”

She sighed, and Steve stopped altogether. Maria looked up at him, tired and annoyed. “Could you please take your shoes off in your own home. You’re not an animal.”

Steve looked down at his feet, Nike’s still on. His cheeks burned, “right,” a hand went up to his neck and rubbed it sorely. “Sorry, I just--” He realized she wasn’t listening anymore and vanished around the corner, flushed with embarrassment.

Billy turned his burning gaze on her. He looked excited to see her; she took the twinkle in her son’s eyes and poured ash all over it. How dare she?

If she noticed, she didn’t react.

“Sorry,” Steve said again, much quieter and much more serious time. “I didn’t know you were going to be home.”

“I’m avoiding your father,” she explained sounding terse. “Quello figlio di puttana.” Billy watched Steve flinch at those words like he’d been slapped. “I’m sick of him. And if there’s one place he won’t be, it’s here.”

Steve nodded solemnly at those words, the one place he wouldn’t be being here… _home_. “I’m happy your here,” he tried to sound bright. “How long are you staying?”  

“I’m home, not at a hotel,” she snorted. “I’ll stay as long as I want.” Billy and Steve shared a look, _could’ve fooled me._ “Although I’d think you are, taking in homeless people and whatnot.”

He paled. “Mom,--”

“Last time I came home,” she said. “I thought you were running a daycare.” All those odd-looking children in her house, the thought of how much damage they could’ve caused and how many germs they spread made her skin crawl. “I come back and now it’s a homeless shelter.”

Steve winced. “I’m not...doing either of those things. I’m just helping a friend until something else comes up. It--”

She rolled her eyes and stood--doesn't care. "My things are in the living room, mi caro, take them up for me.”

Steve stopped short, whatever he was going to say cut off. He nodded as if it never happened, “okay.”

He walked with her out of the kitchen, his head tucked down.

So, his mom is home which happens once in a blue moon, he has a boyfriend who got kicked out of his house and nearly beaten to a bloody pulp two days ago and all she can think about is luggage. Steve stopped and nearly expected her to too.

“Mom, he's not--”

She chuckled, cutting him off. “Steven, I don't care. As long as he doesn't make a mess, run up a bill or get you arrested, I don't care.” He took her bags and followed her upstairs. “I'm fixing his hair, per carità, if he’s living under this roof I refuse to have him looking like a mutt.”

“Mom!” He tried to stop her, tried to stand up for Billy because, honestly, he can probably hear them. “He’s my friend.” _More than that actually._

“Unfortunately, _and_ he looks ridiculous,” she tossed back. “Are we done stating facts?” Steve glared at her and the worst part is he wouldn’t normally give any adult this look let alone his mother and she couldn’t care less.

He almost thinks not even Billy could get a rise out of her.

He dropped off her things at the foot of her bed and started to leave, “tell him, I’ll fix it after I unpack.”

“Mom he’s not going--” Steve shut his mouth with a click, she’s already stopped listening. “I’ll try. He doesn't like being told what to do.” The understatement of the century, in his opinion. 

Her lips quirked, “foul tempered, hard headed, poor, issues with his father. Steven, the boy’s as much of a cliche as you are.” She chuckled sourly. “You can’t think I’m that unobservant.”

 _You are to me,_ he thought. _Then you should care more about him,_ he thought. _Then you should care more about me,_ he thought. He left without saying any of those things and politely shut the door behind him.

“Your mom...wants to cut my hair,” Billy repeated. He sat for about fifteen seconds, his lips slid into to a scowl, “she’s not coming near me, you can fucking forget that Harrington.”

Steve shrugged helplessly over their lukewarm breakfast. “She said if you’re going to stay here you can’t look like a mutt, her words, not mine.”

“Can I kill your mom?” He gulped down coffee (black) afterward.

He knows it’s a joke, laughs a little. “Wow, what a great solution to the problem.”

Billy snorted, “She’s not human, I think I'm within in the right.”

“Either way she’s going to get her way,” he said with a certain resignation that told Billy she’s more ‘my way or the highway’ than Mr. Harrington, which is _really_ saying something. Steve laid his head on his curled fist. “She used to cut my hair when I was little, it wasn’t bad. She never cut me or anything.”

“I’ve seen the pictures, Harrington.” Billy was thinking mostly of the one in the bookcase in the living room with little Steve sitting on a rock overlooking Assisi. “She’s going to make me look like a yuppie."

“I mean...your dad,” Steve started. He looked at the mangled sides where Neil had succeeded the most in cutting his hair. He knows there’s a crescent cut on the side of his head where the point got his skin. His eyes met Billy and he couldn’t finish his sentence. “It could be worse is all I mean.” He reached over grabbing Billy’s hand, his thumb rubbed over the hills the veins created. “Just let her do it and you can stay here.”

Billy didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull his hand away either.

 

* * *

          

Steve stayed the entire time while his mother talked over Billy to him. “Quell’uomo è pazzo.” She shook her head. “Attaccare il suo figlio con le forbici.”

 “Lo so,” Steve nodded. Her sympathy has nothing to do with Billy more with the fact that the amount of scandal in this town gives her whiplash and another headache. Barbara Holland, Will Byers, now this boy’s getting bruised to hell by his father which is more common but... _still._ She can’t be coming from such a volatile town. He looked over at Billy clearly agitated by the fact that he can’t understand a word they’re saying. Steve realizes he might not’ve ever mentioned he’s bilingual...ish.

“Guiro questa cittadina peggiora ogni anno,” she added. Which only proved Steve’s thoughts. She doesn’t care.

“Mama, è arrabbiato.”

“E?” She looked down at Billy, making it even more obvious they’re talking about him. “È sempre arrabbiato .”

Steve fixed her with another glare on Billy’s behalf. “Enough, mom.”

She scoffed. “Che carino, pensi di potermi dire cosa fare?”

“No, I don’t,” he tried again, answering honestly. “Knock it off.”

Maria put down the scissor to look at her son, right in his ridiculously bulbous eyes, right in his square face. “I’ve been generous today, Steven. Don’t turn me into a villain.”

“Then please,” he eyes went to Billy, the scowl present on his face and the humiliation. _“Please.”_

She raised a thin eyebrow looking at them.

Steve gulped, okay so maybe his affection for Billy got kind of...obvious there. “It’s been a rough few days,” he tried instead. She put down the scissors and looked at Billy with the analytical eyes of a surgeon instead of saying anything else.

“I’m finished,” she said with a sigh. “And he looks much better.”

“ _He_ has a mouth,” Billy snarled.

“Clearly,” she said, unimpressed. “I’m assuming it’s what usually gets you into so much trouble.” She took the scissors back and went on her way, leaving Billy fuming, his nostrils flaring. Steve’s teeth sunk deep into his lips.

“I’m sorry about--”

“It’s not your fault,” Billy said.

Steve looked down at his feet on the bathroom tile and the remnants of Billy’s blonde curls, they’re expected to clean that up. “I could’ve stood up to her more...better.”

Billy didn’t say anything. He touched his hair, sort of ran his fingers through it. He does look kind of like a yuppie, but it’s still him. Steve decided to do the same thing focusing on his boyfriend’s new look. How much clearer his face is, how his jawline is even more prominent without the long blonde curls, Billy with short hair is actually...more attractive.

_Fuck._

"I think I like this better,” Steve said, his mouth went dry as his throat worked. “I mean, you should like it the most but I…” his cheeks flush. It feels weird to think about what he wants to say with his mother in the other room--cold hearted, serpent woman or not.

Billy stood with a sly smirk, the growing outline in Steve’s pants makes it pretty obvious how he feels about his new haircut. “This doing something for ya, huh pretty boy?” He crowded into his space, already knowing it is.

Steve nodded. “You look so good, babe.” Billy hummed acknowledging the compliment. His hands skated up underneath Steve’s shirt, Billy’s still not wearing one. “My mom’s literally one room over, we are literally _in_ the master bathroom. I think she still thinks I’m with Nancy.” He said, trying to will his own boner away and end this before they get caught.

Billy put Steve’s hand in the new soft, short locks and all of that fell away. He could feel his hot breath on his ear, “didn’t know you were some kinda Latin lover, pretty boy.” He nudged a thigh between Steve’s, rocking as they kissed. He laughed a little at that, _Latin lover_ , what a fucking joke. Steve’s hands didn’t leave Billy’s hair, feeling the difference with the tips and pads of his fingers, careful to avoid the cut by his ear.

They heard a door and Steve pushed him away, they’re head whipped towards the bathroom door still shut. “See, I told you _,_ ” Steve said sternly. “We would’ve been in so much trouble, like biblical.”

Billy smirked, “like getting stoned or…”

“Like she unleashes that unholy voice she has on both of us for dirtying up her bathroom with teenage boy hormones,” he said. He could almost hear it now, screaming about the smell of sex and how ridiculous this all is and how much of a disappointment Steve is.

“Okay,” Billy said, snapping Steve out if. “Not in your parents’ room.”

Steve blinked, “did you _want_ to do it my parents’ room?”

Billy shrugged, “yeah, like a, like an act of defiance.”

The other boy gagged. “No,” he stuck his tongue out in disgust. “They used to sleep there, they probably made _me_ in there. Would you do it with me in Neil and Susan’s bed?”

He laughed, “fuck yeah, I would.” A grin spread wickedly across his face, “I’d make sure we fuck up their sheets and everything, put a fucking indent of your pretty face in their mattress.”

“You’re crazy.” Against his better judgment, he pressed one more sweet kiss to Billy’s lips smiling helplessly, who knows when they’ll have the privacy to do it again. “So crazy.”

“Yours though,” his voice is light, Steve still hears the question in it.

Steve laced his fingers behind Billy’s back pulling him in close again. “Sei il mio ragazzo. Sono pazzo di te.” He wiggled his eyebrows knowingly. “Translation, yeah, you’re mine.”

Billy knows there’s more to what he said, but that’s all he really needed to hear. “You’re turning me into a sap.”

“You just said you’d fuck me so hard there’d be indent of my face in the mattress,” Steve laughed. “Not exactly romantic.”

He shrugged, “we’ll throw in rose petals or some shit.”

“Wow, my Romeo,” Steve snorted, taking him by the wrist and leading him out of the bathroom. His mom wasn’t in her room either. “Go change. At least put a shirt on.”

“You think your old lady was ogling me?”Steve made another disgusted face, mostly on her behalf. “I’m pretty sure she hates you so...no. And if she hears you call her old lady she _will_ kick you out.” That wasn’t a joke. Her age..ing is a _very very_ sore spot. Steve still remembers how hard she sobbed when the grey hairs started to set in for real. She was inconsolable, he started telling people her sister died.

 

When Billy left Steve couldn’t help tapping his fingers against his lips nervously. How could she _not_ freak out? The bruises and cuts marring Billy’s tan skin are plainer than the day, out in the open and his mother didn’t even flinch.

Not a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

He started off a fast walk trying to find her, to get answers for her heartlessness this time. She was, surprisingly in his father’s study. “Mom?” He watched her dump a pile of his papers onto the floor, trample all over them and do it again. “Mom!”

“Don’t scream, Steven,” she hissed. “You know I hate the yelling and the mumbling,” she rambled until she stopped almost gripping her stylized hair somewhat emulating Jackie Kennedy. “Just...pick a _normal_ volume.”

“What are you doing?”

He watched her finish off another glass of wine, ignoring him. “I think I’m ready to get rid of him, I’m so sick of him.” 

His stomach bottomed out at those words. “G-get rid of...of dad?”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. Poured herself another glass. “Are you going to stand here and watch me or are you going to go do something meaningful with your day? Have you finished your homework?”

Steve gulped, “you mean like...d-divorce him, right?”

Maria stared at him for a minute and laughed, sounding almost too much like Billy. Jagged at the edges and ripped. “I’m certainly not going to be killing him, at least not physically. I’d like to, however, bleed his bank account dry.” She dumped another stack of his papers on the floor like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

She poured out a sorry amount of wine. Maria eyed the empty bottle, scowled at it and let it fall from her delicate hand and crash onto the floor. Steve flinched, rooted to the spot. This gave him some sort emotional whiplash, like a bow being pulled too taut.

Moments ago, he was upstairs kissing Billy, stupidly declaring love and touching each other. He comes downstairs and now his mom is telling him she’s more than likely going to divorce his dad. He swallowed thickly.

It’s not like they ever liked each other, he’s honestly surprised they haven’t talked about it sooner or already done it. “Okay,” is all he can manage. He left her to destroy that study, Steve can’t blame her. They’ve both been called in there for chew-outs enough times.

Steve decided he and Billy were going to go out today, maybe with the kids--if Billy’s ready for that. Maybe he’d take him to go see Max, they’d all like that.

He went back upstairs, not really registering like his feet are acting on their own accord. Steve pushed the door opened to his own room feeling like a stranger in his own body.

“Hey--what’s wrong?” Billy was pulling on a pair of clean, tight jeans. A black pair that hug his body _so_ well.

Steve tried to find the right words, he shook his head. “Did you want to see Max today?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Or go out? Maybe just to the bookstore or the movies?”

Billy came close, cradled Steve’s face with his hands, “what’s the matter, sweetheart? What’d she say to you?”

He shook his head again, “I...she’s downstairs and...she’s just...we should just go out for a little while. Make a day of today, me and you or me and you and the kids. I can even ask Hopper if Jane can come?”

Billy searched his wet eyes, he pulled back, nodding. “If you want to get out, we’ll get out.”

 

They ended up picking up the whole squad. Will who adores Billy the most was especially happy to see him and fawned over his new haircut. Max laughed at him for it of course. The boys are convinced the source of all of Billy’s evilness was in that mullet and now that he’s finally free, he can be a decent human being.

He flipped them off for that one.

They went up to the big mall an hour away and goofed around there. Took silly pictures in the photo booth, no one mentioned anything about Billy and Steve sneaking kisses in there behind the deep purple veil. They played mini-golf and ended the day with the kids singing along to songs on the radio--Billy threatening to crash the whole goddamn car and kill them all.

It was a good day and Steve forgot entirely about what had happened that morning, and Billy had sort of grown to like his new haircut.

           

By time they got home the study was thoroughly trashed, only Steve looked in there. Billy went into the kitchen to start dinner, none the wiser of his mother's rampage. He shut the door behind him and said nothing about it. Billy made chicken parmesan and things seemed so normal Steve would’ve thought his mom packed up and left while he was gone like she’s done so many nights before.

“If she’s awake,” Steve muttered. “I’m going to bring her a plate.”

Billy watched him, he already knew why Steve’s so needy and clingy and he wears his heart so plainly on his sleeve, seeing the actual reason is different. He wondered if this is how he felt when he saw Neil hit him for the first time.

That chilling sense of clarity.

The ‘oh, I get it.’

“Does she usually day drink and pass out?”

Steve shrugged, “yeah, kind of. When my dad’s home she doesn’t. Now that it’s usually just me...yeah.” She can squeeze in a half hour with him and that half hour is comprised of him helping her choose her outfits. If not she’s drunk, on her way to being drunk or simply gone.

“Shit,” Billy grumbled. “My mom was batshit too, but she was there.”

Steve gnawed his lip, wanted to point out Billy shouldn’t be proud his mother was there at all considering how absolutely paranoid she was to the point of detriment to her own son. She should’ve been somewhere, getting help. Not like Maria’s much better, but still. He nodded. “I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere,” he tried for flirty, but it all just sounded pleading.

His search ended when he found Maria sitting up on one of the pool chairs, Steve winced. It just had to be the pool. She pulled at a dainty cigarette, smoke like silk filled the air.

“Mom...I brought you dinner,” he said, cautiously.

“I don’t want microwaveable food, Steven,” she hissed. “If I did, I’d go to a prison.”

Steve carried on carefully, “it’s...it’s not, Billy can make food. He made dinner...chicken parmesan.” A hopeful question, ‘is this good enough?’ was evident in his voice.

She blew out more smoke. “Sit, I want to talk to you.”

Maria accepted the plate, but immediately put it down. “Yes, mama?”

“That boy...he was kicked out of his house because he’s a homosexual, yes?” She asked.

Steve’s blood froze. He felt sick to his stomach. He should know by now her voice won’t give away anything and it doesn’t. Did she snoop around his room? Find Billy’s things in his room instead of the guest bedroom? Was it that look this morning? Did she see them kissing in her bathroom? “Y-yeah,” Steve gulped. “Yes, mama.”

She hummed softly. “And you…?” Steve shook his head softly _._ She rolled her eyes, glad she took medication before having this conversation, her son is too dramatic for his own good. “Just say it, Steven, it won’t kill you.”

“Will you?” He asked cautiously. “If him and I are together?”

She scoffed, “I don’t care where you stick what.” The disgusted look on her face reminded Steve of his own. “At least I don’t have to worry about any unwanted grandchildren.”

“How did you know?”

Maria’s look was unimpressed, “I could practically smell it in the air. That boy’s just as all over you as you’re all over him,” she snapped. “ _Mom, enough_ ,” she mocked him from earlier this morning. “ _Steve’s friend_ ,” she snorted. “I would’ve slapped him if his father hadn’t already done it for me. He must think I’m an idiot.”

“Billy,” Steve corrected, “it’s not ‘that boy,’ his name is Billy.”

She huffed, “ _Billy._ ” Maria stamped out her cigarette, grabbed her wine and drank. “And you and Billy are…”

“Together,” he said.

“For how long?”

“Almost a year,” Steve said, shocking even himself with the realization. “Our first anniversary is next month.”

She hummed again, making Steve even more nervous. He can’t make out anything on her unreadable face. “And you're expecting to stay in this relationship, presumably until one of you gets bored, dies probably from AIDS or a hate crime or whatever, or some other obstacle finally ends it?”  

Steve nodded, tried not to think of those things. Tries not to think of some other obstacle as demodogs and the Upside Down.

She looked at him appraisingly and Steve can’t tell what she’s deciding. “Tomorrow you and Billy will clean up the study. I’ll be leaving shortly after you finish.”

He blinked. “You’re...you’re leaving again? Are you not...is it because of dad?” Steve shook his head, no, he only has one question. “Are you leaving for good?”

Her lips quirked into a little grin--Steve’s never seen this look before, “no, I decided not to. I don’t think I’ll divorce your father either, at least not this week.”

“When did you decide all this?”

She shrugged, “just now.” She took a sip from her wine casually, “if I’m not mistaken, your boyfriend has a bit of a temper and I have a feeling he won’t appreciate eating the dinner he cooked alone.”

Steve’s eyes just about bugged out his head. “You...that was...fast...I thought you would need to...I dunno... adjust?” This moment right here might be the most attention she’s paid to him since he reached double digits. “This is...me and him...isn’t that a big deal to you?”

“No,” she answered instantly. “My world doesn’t revolve around you and your relationships.”

_Of course._

At least she’s not throwing them both out. “Are you going to tell dad?”

Maria smirked, looking almost triumphant. “You’re a big boy, Steven, I’ll leave that up to you.”

Steve nodded and stood. He stared at her for a moment, it feels odd knowing, she’s up to something but not knowing what. His mom has never been 'up to something’ before. She drank again, looking out at the pool placidly and Steve took his leave. She's got no more words for him.

Only looking back once he closed the door behind him, his mother carefully picking at the chicken parmesan. Neither a look of displeasure or joy on her face.

Steve sat down and ate dinner with Billy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Quello figlio di puttana = that son of a bitch  
> Mi caro = my dear  
> Per carità = For charity/ For Pete's sake, etc.  
> L’uomo è pazzo, attaccando il suo figlio con i forbici = the man is crazy, attacking his son with scissors  
> Lo so = I know  
> Guiro, questa cittadina peggiora ogni anno = I swear, this town gets worse every year  
> Lui è arrabbiato = He's angry  
> Lui è arrabbiato sempre = He's always angry  
> Che carino, pensi che puoi dimmi che fare = How cute, you think you can tell me what to do  
> Sei il mio ragazzo. Sono pazzo di te = You're my boyfriend. I'm crazy about you 
> 
> Fun fact: I'm studying Italian now, obviously it's not my first language but it was fun to put it in here. If I messed anything up, let me know!  
> Thanks for reading to the end!


End file.
